


Discovery

by SunnySidesofBlue



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, F/M, Family Secrets, Hurt No Comfort, Implied Forced Pregnancy, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, domestic abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:21:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28356924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunnySidesofBlue/pseuds/SunnySidesofBlue
Summary: Smokescreen stumbles upon a secret he would have given anything to un-know.
Relationships: Barricade (Transformers)/Original Character(s)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 17





	Discovery

**Author's Note:**

> Pre-war AU, G1/IDW-ish
> 
> For reference, Smokescreen is in the equivalent of his upper teens in this story, Bluestreak some 5-6 years younger and Prowl roughly the same amount older.

Smokescreen ran.

Part of him knew that it was pointless, that no running in the world would ever help him escape the implications of what he had just seen, but he couldn’t help himself. He had to react in some way, and running was the only thing he felt capable of. 

If only he could unsee it, unhear it. If only he could travel back in time just half an hour and somehow stop himself from making the horrific discovery. He knew it was selfish, that hiding behind ignorance wouldn’t change what he now knew had happened but by Primus, he still wished he could.

He’d only meant to look for some old image captures and videos for Bluestreak. Ever since their carrier had died, their sire had been unwilling to share any of his old mementos with the three brothers. Smokescreen, like everybody else, had assumed Barricade just found the memories it brought up too painful. But what his sire didn’t know couldn’t hurt him, right? Bluestreak barely had any memories of his own of Tracer and Smokescreen had felt it only right that his younger brother should get to know her as much as possible, even if it was only through others.

And so he had snuck into his sire’s private quarters and managed to gain access to his media archives. He had found a number of old family photos and spent quite a while copying the best of them for later compilation into something he could secretly pass on to his younger brother.

Then he had innocently opened one of the video folders.

Most of the files hadn’t been specifically titled and only showed the ID number the recording device had given them, but several of them carried name tags and Smokescreen had opened the oldest one tagged with Bluestreak’s name. In his eagerness he had not even noticed that the file was older than his brother was.

The video started with a close-up of Tracer’s face, seemingly in recharge. As it zoomed out to show her upper body as well Smokescreen saw that her hands were bound to the berth frame, and he was just about to close the file in embarrassment - he did NOT want to know what games his creators had played in berth, dammit! - when out of nowhere a hand flashed into frame and struck Tracer in the face, and Smokescreen’s own hand froze just shy of the stop button. That had not been a playful slap, or even one meant to smart but cause no harm. It had buckled Tracer’s cheek, and the groan that followed was definitely one of pain as Tracer’s optics flickered online. Seeing that particular shade of teal again made Smokescreen’s spark ache, but he also felt an unsettling dread looming in his mind. What the frag was he watching?

Tracer’s head turned to one side and her gaze seemed to focus on something to the left of the camera. Then she spoke, and Smokescreen was horrified by the weakness in her voice.

_“Please, Cade. Please stop.”_

Her arms pulled weakly at the restraints but it was obvious there was no way she’d be able to tear herself free. Smokescreen could see no other blatant traces of violence on her but there was visible chafing around her wrists and traces of washing fluid around her optics. He caught himself wondering just what had been going on before the video recording started, and how long it had lasted.

He feared he already knew at least part of the answer.

_“Please Cade, don’t make me carry again. I can’t do it.”_

_“Shut up. You’re mine and you will do whatever the frag I tell you.”_

_“Last time almost killed me. Please, I beg of you!”_

That earned her another punch to the face.

_“Open for me.”_

_“No! Cade, please!”_

_“I said OPEN FOR ME!”_

Barricade’s grey hands appeared on Tracer's chest, clawed fingers digging into the centre seam. The sound of metal straining under pressure mixed with Tracer’s scream of pain as the plates slowly started to come apart, exposing the golden glow of spark light.

Smokescreen lurched forward and stopped the playback. His entire frame was shaking and his processor felt both strained to maximum capacity and completely empty at the same time. The part of it that still functioned checked the date of the recording and concluded that yes, it was exactly 16 months prior to Bluestreak’s separation. Given how Barricade had tagged the file there was little doubt as to the connection.

This was Bluestreak’s kindling.

For a moment Smokescreen just sat there, optics fixed on the frozen screen while his mind raced, struggling to process what he’d just witnessed. Part of him wanted to scream that it couldn’t be possible, that there had to be some kind of explanation. The other half acknowledged with crushing brutality that there was absolutely nothing in the universe that could possibly excuse what he had just seen done.

Smokescreen did remember that their carrier had had a hard time carrying Bluestreak, but he couldn’t recall ever seeing the slightest hint that something was wrong between her and Barricade. Had he really been that unobservant, or had Tracer just been extremely good at hiding it? And what, in turn, would that imply? If her bondmate was abusive, why hadn’t she asked someone for help? 

And why, by every star in the sky, had Barricade made this video recording that proved him guilty of abuse and rape, let alone kept it for all these years?

Still halfway dazed, Smokescreen slowly reached for the console again, closed the playback window and returned to the list of files. Creating a new folder he then began copying everything he could find onto the portable drive he’d brought. 

The drive he’d brought to find happy memories to share with his younger brother. 

Primus below, how was he ever going to be able to tell Bluestreak?

Even though he tried not to, he couldn’t help noticing that there were files tagged with his own and Prowl’s names as well that predated their separation dates. Was there any chance that those would be of a different nature than Bluestreak’s, or had the abuse started as far back as that?

He couldn't bring himself to look. 

As soon as the transfer was complete he disconnected and quickly stepped away from the console, as though it held a deadly virus he was afraid of contracting. For a moment his gaze shifted back and forth between it and the innocent-looking drive in his hand, and he wondered what the frag he was going to do now. He had to tell _someone_ , but who? If his own sire was capable of hiding something like this from him, who then could he trust?

The room seemed to shrink around him, lights fading and walls and ceiling creeping closer as if to trap him, and suddenly it all became too much.

He ran.


End file.
